This is Completely Unfair!
by C.S. Williams
Summary: All is not well in SG-1's world. A little fun at Jack's expense...


TITLE: Completely Unfair  
  
AUTHOR: C.S. Williams  
  
SEASON: Sometime after 7  
  
SPOILERS: None, I don't think.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Nothing in this story belongs to me. They all belong to MGM and all those people. Just watch the end of the show's credits.  
  
"Isn't this illegal somewhere?" Jack complained, implying if it wasn't, certainly it ought to be.  
"I do not believe so, O'Neill," Teal'c responded, his usual stoic demeanor in place.  
Sam Carter, however, was not as disciplined. She continuously fought the laughter threatening to split her sides. "Sir, I don't think anyone ever really anticipated something like this happening."  
The colonel let out a groan of irritation. This was completely unfair! How had this happened? Someone would think there'd be rules against this, for crying out loud! Not to mention the Air Force had encouraged it! This had to be the most irritating, pathetic, annoying display of-  
"Sir?" Carter's voice sounded worried. O'Neill snapped back to attention for a moment.  
"What?"  
"Are you all right?" Looking up, Jack could see a stain beginning to form on his carpet from where he'd tipped his beer can a little too far in his (completely justifiable) rage.  
He sighed. "Yeah, fine. Just forgot what I was doing." He cursed his way to his feet, and his team could hear his grumbling all the way to the kitchen.  
"Uh, maybe someone should go help him or something," Daniel suggested. The look on his face, and the identical miens of his companions, indicated the enthusiasm generated by his comment.  
O'Neill came storming back out, cloth in hand, and flopped onto the floor to soak up the beer stain. Even once the liquid was beginning to disappear, Jack's bad mood showed no signs of following its lead. He merely continued to make disparaging comments under his breath, obviously designed to give the listener the impression no one was supposed to hear them, yet travel to as many ears as possible.  
His 2IC rolled her eyes. He was acting like such a baby. "Sir," she started, but was soon interrupted by the man himself.  
"Carter, our society is crashing down around us. You could drop the titles at least until the crisis ends."  
Sam resisted the impulse to roll her eyes again. "Sir," she emphasized, causing O'Neill to look up to glare at her, "I think you're being slightly overdramatic. I doubt 'society is crashing down around us,' as you so succinctly put it."  
"Yeah, Jack." Daniel eagerly joined his colleague in berating their commanding officer. "It's not the end of the world."  
"Sure it's not, Danny." The colonel scrubbed at the carpet even more vigorously, as if it too had offended him somehow. "Soon they will control the entire planet."  
There was no need to ask to whom the "they" was referring. The three other members of SG-1 had already listened to at least three hours of angry ranting on exactly that topic. Nothing could dissuade Jack from his pessimistic view on the future of America; he was convinced there was nothing that could save it now.  
"Jack, let's be pragmatic here," Daniel tried once again to reason with him. And once again, it was futile.  
Colonel O'Neill rebuffed his efforts swiftly. "I am being pragmatic."  
"You are not, O'Neill," Teal'c added mildly.  
"So everyone's against me?" Looking around, he could see he would not get any support. "Fine!" He threw the rag down on the ground and, in an extremely mature gesture, stomped down the hall and slammed the door to his room.  
Sam sighed, allowing a smile to play across her face as she picked up the beer-soaked cloth. She moved silently into the kitchen, but as she was washing out the rag, she heard Daniel turn up the volume on the television, clearly intending for the colonel to hear it in his room.  
  
"And look at him go! He's really moving, isn't he, Jim?"  
"I haven't seen anyone this good in a long time. AND HOLY COW, IT'S ANOTHER SCORE FOR THE ROOKIE!"  
"That makes it what? 24 to 2?"  
"It sure does, Bob! Where'd this guy go to school, anyway?"  
"The Air Force, according to this transcript. It appears he also has a degree in about twenty different subjects as well. Is there anything this guy can't do?"  
"I certainly don't know, Bob. In a recent interview, he claimed he hadn't played the game until just over a year ago. Guess he's a quick study, huh?"  
"And, no surprise here, the Chevrolet Player of the Game is JONAS QUINN!"  
  
A heavy object dropped to the ground in O'Neill's bedroom, and Sam shook her head in amusement. She never would understand men's obsession with sports. The colonel was probably just jealous Jonas had made it into professional hockey. It was stupid. He should be happy for Jonas.  
  
"What's even more amazing is that he is scheduled to receive the Nobel Prize for his work in the field of astrophysics. Apparently-"  
  
"WHAT?" Sam bolted into the living room just as O'Neill came out of his room with a smug look on his face.  
"Did I forget to mention that, Major?" His smile expanded.  
She turned to glare at him and say pointedly, "Sir, how can you smile with our society crashing down around us?"  
  
"Not to mention his recent discoveries of some important dig sites in Egypt, and that new sci-fi novel he's penned poking fun at 'the life of the enslaved military leader in the command chain of an egotistical alien.' He is truly a credit to the United States of America, wouldn't you say?"  
  
"Jonas Quinn must die," Teal'c stated, turning off the television. "Now." 


End file.
